And when I sit around the house, I really sit AROUND the house

But it took a professional’s blunt assessment to hit the realization home in no uncertain words.

I’m fat.

I’m fat.

I’m really, really fat.

(with apologies to Weird Al).

Sure, I noticed that my jeans were a little snug. True, I’ve had love handles for nearly a decade now.

But… but… my resting heart rate is around 65bpm, I can yoga-cize my feet over my head (really!), and I could outrun and outkick the majority of my geek brethren, I’d think. I swing dance at least 5 hours a week, and I’m at the gym for about 3-5 hours a week on top of that. Not to mention the long flight of stairs up to my apartment, and…

My body fat is still apparently an embarrassingly high 23%. That’s tub-o-lard territory. That’s the sort of number that lousy ‘n’ lazy fatsos-eating-dorritos-while-watching-TV chalk up. And I’m not one of them! I’m fit and youthful and…

Deluded and fat.

—

I should have known that it was Fate that three free personal training sessions fell into my oversized lap. I suppose at least I should be grateful that my trainer’s been gracious about dropping the whole flabbelation (flab + revelation) on me.

So anyway, I went online to order a body fat scale, and wouldn’t you know it, Amazon.com was out. Devilishly determined and decidedly desperate, I then attempted to call places in The Real World (e.g., neighborhood stores) to see if they had any decent body fat scales in stock, but of course, they didn’t either. A friend explained the situation to me in three words:

New. Year’s. Resolutions.

(and, I could add: Lots. Of. Fatties.)

Great. I’m short. I’m fat. And I have no accurate scale. Well, drugstore.com sort of came to the rescue, so I’m getting one via UPS this Wednesday. Woo hoo!

But of course, that’s just a tiny piece of the battle.

I’m actually having to get off of my seefood diet (you know, the one where ya see food, then eat it). It’s no secret that I love to eat, in fact… my friends tease me about it, and it’s become almost my goofy calling card at dance events (“Food!” I’d typically chant at the midnight hour of the dance’s end, “Let’s go grab some food!” And we often would, like that avocado bacon cheeseburger ‘n’ fries of 1400 calories I consumed last Saturday night).

Unsurprisingly, then, the first step to fixing a problem is understanding the problem. Beyond simply having me admit that there’s more to me than meets the non-naked eye, so to speak, my trainer has insisted that I keep a detailed log of every bite and sip that goes through my lips, 24/7. And boy, let me tell you, I tried to find politically-correct ways to notate the aforementioned burger binge, but alas… nope, couldn’t hide it.

Do you know how many calories are in a Krispy Kreme Donut? Or in a Double Double at In ‘n’ Out? Granted, the eating-out indulgences have been only an occasional thing for me (no, really), but even an occasional extra 1000-1500 calories at the end of the day stacks up, so to speak.

—

So, after about a week of keeping my food log, I’ve learned a lot.– Excel isn’t the optimum tool for making a food log, but it does the trick (“GEEK!”).– I would die a hungry and sad man if my microwave completely broke.– Veggies and fruits are not a lately — or at least frequent — visitor in my household. Someone needs to invent bananas that don’t turn brown in 3 days. I mean, what’s up with that? But at least my trash can is getting his (her?) full servings of fruit this way.– Pasta and bread each have a lot of calories, damn! Spaghetti dinner (with garlic bread and real salad) = one way ticket to Fat Farm.– The people who determine and specify “serving sizes” should be shot. Two tablespoons of croutons = a serving my ass! (er, sorry, bad combo there).– I can actually eat a HUGE amount of fresh turkey breast for comparatively few calories. Rock on!

—

No, don’t worry. I’m not going to post pics of my belly (though, just so I can be one of those sexy-pathetic before ‘n’ after stories on posters, I’ve taken such pics). And I’m not going to bore you with exactly what I’ve been eating the past few days (hint: less than I’d like).

Instead, I’ll just close this entry with a moral or a call to action or a pithy quote as I so often do, er, attempt, er…

dammit. It’s no use. Have you ever tried to blog when you’re hungry and craving a large steak ‘n’ prawn super burrito?!

I don’t’ believe in diets. Until the South Beach Diet. A bunch of my friends went form tubby to sleek with it, so I hopped online and did some searching in Yahoo’s new search and found out—hey, it’s actually healthy. and it works. Doctors like it. Dieters like it. And now I like it. I am full, I do miss pasta, but it’s slowly and steadily working and I don’t feel gross like when I briefly flirted with Atkins. If you really want to skinny up, exercises +South Beach would work. (Even though you can skip exercise, they say, really the end goal is to be healthy, right??)